


A Stray Cat

by Fruitbox



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: F/F, Mina is a cat lover, Sana is the cat, This can be fluff but I'm not sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 12:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30038565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fruitbox/pseuds/Fruitbox
Summary: In some parts of the universe, Mina will find a cat.
Relationships: Minatozaki Sana/Myoui Mina
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	A Stray Cat

The floorboards creak beneath Mina’s geta. 

The kimono shies away just a few centimetres above the dusty platform. Her luggage is open on a random plank. She parts the shoji screens until moonlight is visible, until there are no dark corners and her long shadow is gangling across the floor.

She carries a bowl of sliced watermelon, then faces the patio and the cobblestone footpath that leads to the road. 

She adjusts the fabric so she sits on the veranda, waiting for something to happen. The night crickets rub their scrapers to sing in the background. The wind barely rustles her sleeves, or the leaves of the maple looming tall above everything else.

Mina bites her fruit, slurping the juice that runs down her fingers. She looks ahead like a drunkard would, watching the brilliance of television as it glows in soft destruction, a thimbleful throb to pulsate that familiar thrill once again. A feeling she might miss.

She licks the rind, savouring its final drops before setting the scrap into a small bucket beside her feet, above the grass.

The moon doesn’t change, she picks a second slice but halts midair when she sees it in the periphery. There’s a white-furred cat near the bucket, when it wasn’t there before, head tilted with golden eyes. The juice is slipping down her wrist, she hasn’t decided what to do with it yet.

Mina looks around, though she knows there won’t be anyone, before leaning forward to beckon the cat closer to her feet, like it’s a scandalous idea. She lowers the slice so it hovers by the muzzle, allows it to lick once, twice—then it looks up at her, wide-eyed, before starting to nibble with gentle dabs of its tongue.

“Don’t rush it,” Mina breezes lightly, with a smile.

She places the fruit down on the same veranda and it invites itself to nestle on the floorboard beside her, melting the slice into a watery puddle. Mina takes her own bite, spits the seeds on her palm like the cat avoids the black spots while it licks at the rest of the red flesh.

Then Mina puts a hand on the fur, watching how it tilts up with a mouth slitting into a smile. Mina swells. 

“You're still very kind,” the mouth shapes the precise syllables with a consoling, whisper voice. When she pulls her hand away, the cat has her eyes gleaming in human delight. 

They sit there for another hour, finishing the rest of the fruit until the bucket gets heavier when Mina hauls it to discard the scraps. The cat trails behind her footsteps, its tail looping like a hook.

✤ ✤ ✤

In the morning Mina wears a turtleneck she steals from her luggage, still scattered at the center of the floor. Then coils a scarf around her neck, letting it reach just below her nose. 

“You look pretty, Mina.” The cat tilts in its usual fashion, a dashing smile. 

“Thank you, do you want to come with me?” Mina kneels, open her palm as an invitation. The cat rubs her chin against it, purring from the touch. 

Then quietly, she whispers, “Sana?” Testing it on her tongue, softly, and her face is serious as she watches keenly. 

“I am.” Sana smiles, never misses the chance. “I will come with you.”

Mina locks the gate and bends one more time to pat Sana’s head, because she knows the cat is touch-starved, most of the time. They walk down the road, stepping over autumn foliage and letting the morning sun-rays scatter through the puddles of the street. The cars are slowly driving by and the neighbors lurking would sometimes look only at Sana, at that peculiar, almost impossible grin.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Mina says.

“This feels very nice, I should appreciate every part of it.” She struts beside Mina, her tail angular and always bending. 

They stop by the only stall in a small alley, it’s lonesome and rickety, like an empty gas station for goners in the middle of the night. An old lady greets them, her wrinkles have calloused the eyes until it’s only capable to present them in a crescent-like shape. Mina thinks she’s always been smiling.

She buys three canned tunas, a lukewarm soft drink, and one salmon onigiri. There’s a drainage path currenting down a eutrophicated stream. Sana sits on its edge, her head curiously watching the flow.

Mina crouches beside her, knees bent under her chin.

They are watching a koi fish swimming under the murk of green. “Look at this friend,” Sana amuses.

“Are you hungry looking at it?” Mina doesn't want to tell Sana that she has a little gift, but she doubts the cat is unaware. Their senses are quite unparalleled.

“I don’t starve over other living things.” Sana stretches a paw to follow the circular wave of the fish, there’s no predacious intentions. The fish rises to surface in subtle curiosity, and plants the paw a shy peck. “Well some of us do, but I’m a sensitive soul. I don’t have the heart to harm them.”

All the while, Mina observes the movements of the whiskers as the cat speaks. It’s quite magical.

“I bought you a gift,” Mina announces, prompting the plastic bag. 

Sana looks at her with golden eyes and mewls a _thank you,_ bending her head under Mina’s arm for indication until she is patting the length of her snowflake fur. “But next time, I much prefer a fruit instead. Tuna is a fish too, you know.”

✤ ✤ ✤

Mina unfolds a futon mat over the floor, she’s cleaned most parts of the house but the mattress is not a choice, the springs are weary and its condition is concerning at most. She has placed a small heating pad covered in a towel on the ground where Sana is rubbing her chin over. 

“Your luggage is waiting, don’t you think?” Sana teases, her tone is urging.

“That can wait, I have plenty of cleaning to do.” Mina lays down a stiff pillow and a duvet. Then she glazes over the room, the paneling, the ceiling. A louvre window is shut with moonlight seeping in, there are intricate patterns of damask sheets coating over the futon, and the pastel wainscot that adorns the wall. 

“What are you thinking?” Sana is licking her paws clean.

“The house is pretty,” Mina says softly, the room hoovers all the insignificant sounds that are not their voices. “I don’t think I ever realized that.”

Sana stretches, then dips under the cover. “Can we cuddle?”

Mina turns off the light, flips the windows to a complete shut, and fits herself in the ample space where Sana is only a tiny creature, nestling somewhere under Mina’s arm. She is warm, the small heartbeat of the cat is promising.

✤ ✤ ✤

The sunlight shines through the slits of the window, casting a warm tingling heat across the flooring, and down on a portion of Mina’s arm.

She sits up, notices she has the futon all for herself. There are cat furs left on the sheets. Blinking awake, she focuses on the shadow standing in front of the louvres. 

When she’s lucid, Sana dawns. Her eyes are less glowing but it’s still autumn brown. Her smile is as Mina has frequently visualized, what it would look like in the curve of a lip. She is real.

“Darling,” she still mewls the same way, “do you like my new skin?” Sana twirls.

Exhaling a lifetime of bottled breath, Mina can’t resist the smile. A tiny seed is spiraling, one that has always been in constant dormant. “I think it’s perfect.”

✤ ✤ ✤

Sana is without the ears and tails, but she is still human naked. She doesn’t mind. Mina does, a little. She makes sure the shoji screens are covered before finally unzipping her luggage to claw the essential clothes. 

“You don’t want to look at me?” Sana tilts, the same identical motion when in her cat form. 

Mina has her back facing Sana. She feels quite stuffy. It’s not because of the dust. She’s probably blushing too. It’s not because of the heat. “That’s okay, I-I can wait.” Her voice lilts higher. She instinctively picks at her finger.

Sana giggles, a familiar sound. 

“Okay, you can turn.” 

Mina does and Sana has only worn the t-shirt, the rest is bare. 

“O-oh,” Mina flushes.

“Don’t you know we hate it most when we’re covered?” Sana is walking closer, “you humans never get it, don’t you.” Mina frantics, looking awry with her eyes shifting in saccade to every surface that is not Sana’s skin. 

But then it’s quite sudden, and it’s the sort of embrace that she wasn’t expecting. 

Sana snakes her arms around her neck, tightly but careful, and her body is pressed firmly so their chests collide. It reminds her of painful graduation days, the solidified hugs that seals a finality. Mina closes her eyes, breathes in and buries her head on Sana’s shoulder. Her hands turn into fists to wrinkle the shirt. 

“Is this how much you miss me?”

Mina nods. _More. I’ve missed you more than this._ From the cloth, everything is muffled, dampened. Mina doesn’t want to let go and she’s sure Sana knows. 

“I’ve searched through every house looking for that familiar, kind face.” Sana says, her voice reverberating through her chest. “It’s quite accidental that I found you here.” 

Mina sighs, nuzzling deeper into the slope of her neck.

“Or is it? Do you believe in fate?” Mina can imagine the smile from the voice. Her fingers dip to smooth down the wrinkles of the shirt, following the spine then holding the hip. 

Sana draws circles on her back, right above her scapula. They stay like that a little longer.

✤ ✤ ✤

Mina is peeling the skin of a tangerine, Sana is sitting on the windowsill in her cat form, looking only at the patio. Momentarily she will lick her paw, or turn to Mina with a smile.

“Darling,” Sana calls. That halts the fruit knife, Mina looks up. “If you notice that we look at the windows for too long, you should drag the laundries inside, it might drench.” 

Two hours later, after the third bare tangerine, it starts to drizzle. 

Sana lays on her lap, curling like a newborn, she would fit into a basket and Mina could take her everywhere. 

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Mina has saved the turtleneck and jeans that were clipped into the washing line just before it rained. 

Sana opens one lid, “we can do a lot of things.”

✤ ✤ ✤

They walk down the same neighborhood path, Sana’s hand is dangling on her side and Mina finds herself stealing glances. It’s midday and the road cleaners are busy polishing the streets. 

They live near the coastline. On their left, just ahead, there will be a beach where the seagulls gather, salt air gliding from the ocean and crab shells dotting across the sand piles.

The silence is comforting, at least this is what they are used to. They don’t find it necessary anymore to strain their throats just to push the quiet away. Subtly, Mina feels Sana’s finger probing her hand, until she grasps it completely.

“If I remember correctly, in this mansion, Riko likes to leave me deboned fish on the porch. He’s ten.” Sana swings their hands lightly. It's a modern house, without a trace of traditional architecture and that quite says a lot. "That's not what I like but I appreciate the offering." She likes her home better.

They pass by a much taller house. One of its corners protrude in a slight tower. Sana clicks her tongue while she inspects it closely. “They kicked me out when I was starving for scraps. They almost threw water. But that’s okay, I forgive them.” Of course Sana would. 

This time a smaller house, much shorter than the rest they’ve seen. The front gate is as unsteady as Mina’s own. “A kind grandpa lives here, I don’t know his name. But when I’d come he would sit on his rocking chair and let me stay. I might have grown attached to him over time, I don't know why.” Sana levels her voice at the same balance with the breeze, Mina is looking at her and it feels quite sad. “But I doubt he ever really saw me,” Sana says. “He might have lost some sight, or hearing. He’s alone in that house.” 

From where they’re standing, they can see the rocking chair. The vines that have curled around the gates, and pillars, and rusting metals.

✤ ✤ ✤

On a certain day of the week, Mina leaves in the morning for groceries. This doesn’t have to be a secret but she wants to keep it as one. On her walk back home, Mina pauses in front of grandpa’s house, he’s in his rocking chair. Sana would love to see this, but that would be another time.

Mina slings a plastic of various fruits into the handle of the gate. She looks up, and she is somewhat sure the grandpa sees. There’s something tender, fragile, about the house. Mina smiles and waves. It’s awkward, and for someone who might have lost some sight, it shouldn’t be visible. But she is somewhat sure he sees.

When she returns home, carrying a handful of shopping bags from the market, there’s an air of absence in her patio, veranda, and through the opened shoji screens that look into the house. There’s a skip of panic. 

Then she sees the white cat leaping from the neighbor’s wall into her yard. “I sensed your scent from a mile away.” Sana always comes at the right time.

Mina lifts one bag, “can you guess what’s inside?”

Sana’s eyes sparkle almost instantly, “a cantaloupe.” 

Mina’s nods, “and more watermelons, blueberries, cherries. Have you ever tried bananas?” She doesn’t buy the tuna.

The cat rustles her fur along Mina’s ankle. “I think I forget what it tastes like.”

In the kitchen, Mina wears an apron. Sana sits at the dinner table in human form, Mina has never seen the mutation in complete motion, she doesn’t think she has to. She slices the fruits in halves, then quarters. It’s the same ritual she’s done so many times before, but maybe today she’s tired or lousy, because this time she slips and it cuts the skin of her thumb. 

Before her reflexes can even hiss, Sana is already beside her, their shoulders touching. Her hand grasps Mina’s injured one with almost professional care. It’s very charming. 

“Careful,” Sana blows into the wound, “there are many of us who starve for your red thing even more than the sharks do.” Then she dips the thumb into her mouth. Inside is warm. Mina flushes, looking away when Sana smiles at her.

“Many of you?”

She plucks the thumb out, there’s no more blood, the skin is sealed. “I meant the other kinds, the darker ones. They’re usually in the forest.” It’s a statement that should frighten her, but Sana always speaks in the most glorifying manner.

When they sleep on the same futon, they are used to their bodies pressed together. Even with their eyes closed, Sana knows Mina isn't really sleeping.

In a tender touch, Sana links their pinkies in a knot. When Mina opens her eyes, Sana is there. 

"If you let some feet out of the covers it would help you sleep." Sana always has her ways of comforting. Mina is glad she doesn't ask _what are you thinking,_ because her head can be a terrifying place.

She pulls the duvet until her ankle is out for the cold air.

In a while Sana will say, "thank you for the fruits," but Mina won't know.

✤ ✤ ✤

It used to be folk superstition but from what Mina has witnessed, she now completely trusts Sana’s occasional forecasts. It’s polite for Mina, or the rest of us, not to demand for one because that would be slightly conniving. But Sana will tell either way.

Mina sits at the dinner table with a book. Her glasses are slipping down her nose bridge. 

Sana is on the windowsill, scratching at curtains with slow mewls. This has been going for quite some time. It’s not intentionally forceful so that it might tear the fabric. Mina looks up from the writing and asks, “are you trying to tell me something?” She is learning to be more perceptive.

Sana smiles, a fang gleaming from the dim light. “If we claw at your curtains, you need to pick your laundries off the thread, or any other light objects outside the house. It might fly away.”

Mina does, and a few hours later there’s a light typhoon, not strong enough to blow the house away or cause wild panic but with enough force to smack the leaves of the mapple facing the east.

They’re both clambering into the sheets, Sana in her human form and suddenly the futon is compact. Mina is looking at her pupils, there’s still the sharp slit of a cat’s precision. 

Then in a light voice as if not to disturb the weather’s torrent, Sana whispers, “in someplace far away, they also believe I can suck out all breath of an infant’s life.” A haunting smile, “then they die.”

Under the covers, Mina finds Sana’s hand and clasps their fingers together. “Have you ever tried it before?”

Sana closes her eyes in a look of repose and hums. “I don’t think I’m spiritually capable for that, nor do I have the apathy to.”

Whenever the opportunity presents itself, when they’re so wrapped around each other in airtight space, Mina always binds closer to fit herself below Sana’s chin. “Why would they ever think of you like that?” Sana’s breathing is a gentle song.

“We don’t have control over those myths.” Her hand smooths over Mina’s head. The distant chagrin of nature, the whirlwind, are all appeased with this calming sensation. She thinks she can travel through every storm with Sana in hand, right until they reach the eye, the center, where it’s quiet again.

Slowly, when she might not even be conscious for this, Mina falls asleep.

At night, though it is intended to be a little secret, Sana soundlessly climbs over Mina’s chest, flattens both her paws at the sides of her cheeks and paste a chaste kiss right where the air breathes.

Mina wakes like sensing the flutters, then she finds the golden eyes. She puffs a laugh, “you take my breath away.”

In a blink, Sana is human again, the weight is suddenly real above her. She’s caressing her cheeks. “I’m sending you a blessing.” Then she folds her hands around Mina’s waist. They stay like that for the rest of the night.

✤ ✤ ✤

The luggage is open, it no longer presents itself like a foreboding totem. Sana wears an oversized shirt and is sitting beside Mina, watching the luggage in mild curiosity. 

“It’s waiting for you,” Sana reminds.

Mina inhales a lungful of air before reaching for the portrait slid at its base. She examines it, then blows away the dust before gently locating it above a low cabinet. She lights a candle beside the face and she sits cross-legged under her skirt.

Sana is watching from afar, a tilted head, a smile. “What about the hairpins, necklace, buttons, or your favorite knitting tools?”

Mina turns to Sana in a bleary sight, it’s starting to water, her eyes are starting to tire. Sana knows this, so she slides across to settle a warm palm above her shoulder. Quietly, to respect the silence, she says, “they would be glad if it’s somewhere close. I heard that’s how the dead feel the most consoled.”

Mina nods, a blur movement. Then she doesn’t make herself look up anymore, she just lets it hang, parallel to her hands on the lap.

✤ ✤ ✤

The next morning Mina takes her up to the temple. They pass by strangers who return from mourning, their heads bowed. She knows the way up from brain memory, Sana trails behind her like a sopping ray of light.

When their hands are washed and refined, Mina carries a wooden pail in one hand. They find the headstone, and Mina joins her palm in a small prayer. She reduces her words over time, it used to be sentences, sometimes a fit of wailing. 

She pours the small driblets of pail water over the stone to wash the thirst away, it’s a custom she’s grown used to over many years. She lays a plate of sliced watermelon above the tombstone and a minimal bouquet of chrysanthemum flowers.

They light a candle and offer incense, Mina always stares at the name while she lets her thoughts wander. These days she no longer cries. Sana is smiling next to her, she’s also looking at the carved initials. She’s listening to the skeleton souls, crying out for love.

✤ ✤ ✤

They walk back home with a new kind of reverie. The sun is setting and the street glows in warm golden hues. They hold hands, at times Sana would caress her thumb over her knuckles. 

“Let me tell you something.” She says, settling her voice to mirror the slow beat of nature’s hum. “Aside from the diabolical myths, a lot of you believe in hope too.”

Sana’s breath forms a shapeless cloud, “they thought of us to be the vessels for the good-natured people that have passed. The benevolent ones.” Then she turns her head so their eyes are matching the same emotions. Sana knows what Mina is feeling at that moment, yet she remains so patient. 

“You told me I’m a good person,” Mina quivers.

“Mina, that is not how I want you to live.” 

Then in a swift motion, Sana brings their coiled hands up to her lip, planting a polite kiss with her eyes closed. She always has her ways to prove her sincerity. “Choose your card, darling. Some think I’m a deity, a demon, a beckoning charm, whatever they are. I can be whatever you want.” And Sana has always been the kindest.

Mina stops in her tracks and looks at Sana completely. The immortalized eyes and smile, the air of her laughter, the sound of her breathing. Her heartbeat. Mina pulls at Sana’s collar until their lips are sealed, exchanging lifetimes of forgiveness they might never have the chance to say. 

They pull closer and closer until every part of Mina’s heart is filled and brimming. Until there are no empty spaces for her to think. She lets out air, and Sana inhales.

✤ ✤ ✤

The next day, Sana isn’t home. Outside is raining, the skies are gray but it doesn’t sound angry. Mina snaps open her bedroom door and scrambles to wear her geta, which is not the suitable footwear for a few laps of sprinting, she snatches a coat but not a hat, which would be pointless if her head would be unprotected.

But Sana hates the cold, the cat hates the water.

She runs down the slope without using the umbrella because that would slow her down. And behind the gates, Riko is looking at her in confusion, a gardener watches her flash down the road, and grandpa stays in his rocking chair. She passes by the alley and sees the stall, she stops for a while to breathe, air mixing with water mixing with sweat. The koi fish is gone.

She looks at the lady, a feeble smile always plastered on her lips. _Think of yesterday._

And Mina isn’t a runner, she never has been. She hates exercising and Sana hates it too. But she climbs up the staircase tinted with watery black, and there are still mourners. She thinks that will be a constant. 

Up at the very top, she sees the cat. It’s a dot of white flake, she might mistake it as snow. Mina jogs, and she is running out of breath. The geta is dangerous in this lean staircase, but that is not the problem.

“Sana!” when she's almost there.

If looked from the side, a mile away, there’s only one girl looking incredibly desperate to climb up the hill in the rain, maybe to reach the temple, while bringing an umbrella that she doesn’t use, and the rest is nothing else. 

When she arrives at the top, Sana is crouching in human form. She looks guilty, and she can probably see the worry. Beside Sana is another cat, who sneaks away in Mina's presence. She watches it leave.

Mina unravels the umbrella and it pops open. She stretches her arm so it only protects the other girl. Her shoulders are soaked, her hair is heavy, her head is pounding.

“I’m sorry, I was talking to a friend.” Sana looks up at her with gleaming eyes. It might be the rain.

Mina lets her heartbeat return to normal. “No, it’s okay. I was just surprised, you don’t have to be sorry.” Mina puffs a silly smile and keeps blinking away the rain. “I think I panicked. Because you’ve never left my side before, I kind of bolted out on instinct.”

Sana looks at the ground, then softly, “many, many of us wish to meet someone like you. Who is so perfect.” When she looks up, Mina wants to hug her. The kind that is warm.

“Can we go home? It’s cold.”

When Sana stands, she leaps into an embrace like she always does. Except this might be dangerous because they might fall down the steps, and Sana is shivering when Mina can finally feel her. But they are laughing.

✤ ✤ ✤

They sit on the concrete patio where the maple shields the sun. Sana is sitting across her, watching the hand patterns of Mina’s knitting, her eyes following as if taunted by a twine toy.

Sana pouts halfway, “is that even going to fit me?”

It’s starting to take the shape of a red scarf. “It’s for the cat, it might be cold in winter.”

“Darling, we don’t like being covered, remember?” Sana says but she’s smiling, and Mina knows she will wear it no matter what.

“Consider this a keepsake, or a trademark so I can know it’s you.” She says this just to sound convincing, but she thinks she’ll be able to tell Sana apart no matter where.

When it’s done, Mina fits it around the neck of the cat and Sana mewls, endorsing the cotton by rubbing her cheek against it.

✤ ✤ ✤

One night, they’re sitting on the same veranda. They’ve been talking about something, maybe ancient folk tales about Sana’s mythical journeys. Mina usually just listens and pays attention to how Sana is eager, with bouncing whiskers and paws, telling histories about the many encounters with different neighborhoods.

“Why are you so quiet?” Sana asks after some time.

Mina blinks, she thinks she’s always been quiet. “I’m okay,”

Then the cat is curling into her lap, with Mina caressing her fur as usual. They keep it this way for a while, and Mina thinks Sana is asleep until she hears the voice again. 

“Mina, why did you come back?” It’s very unlike her to speak in a low precise manner. Mina looks down to her lap and finds Sana, the real one, already lying supine to look up at her. 

Mina doesn’t answer for a while, instead lets a mindless finger trace the hill of Sana’s nose in a touch as light as the grass that combs her feet. It dips down the slope and lands on the philtrum, then the top of her lip. It has always led to this.

Mina replaces with a thumb then parts them open then she bends and bends, her spine grieving along with this desire, until their mouths clash again, chaste, subtle. When she lifts Sana is glossy, doe eyed and it looks like the Sana of her memories. 

"I never hated this world, not once." Sana mutters, she makes sure her voice is clear. "I've never held a vengeance because you are here." 

There is so much to say, so much she wants Sana to understand. Sometimes she's underwater, sometimes she screams to herself and that's very unkind.

So Mina starts slowly, 

“I don’t think I ever wanted to leave in the first place. When it happened, I was scared, but how can I not. It was too strong, too reckless. And like everyone else, I needed time. So I left and I’m sorry that I did, I knew you were looking for me.” Mina breathes, “I never told you this, and I don’t think you would like to know. But when you told me to move on, to keep going, I just can’t. How do you expect me to go along with life like you never mattered. This isn’t guilt, this is my proof of loyalty, and sometimes the dead won’t understand that it’s not burden, it’s love. And that’s true.” All the time she’s closing her eyes, but she opens them now. “So when I tell you I will keep remembering you, I‘m not doing it because I’m hurt. Sometimes I miss you, and I should. Sometimes I cry, but that’s just part of it.” 

She knows her lashes are wet and so are her cheeks, “but I’m here now aren’t I? I’m home.” Sana holds their hands together.

After a moment, Sana calls her one last time. 

"Mina,” the tone is different. It doesn’t lilt higher in the end. “I think it's time to leave now, I’ve overstayed my welcome."

Mina knows this is coming, and is it so wrong that she wants this to last much longer? She knows this shouldn’t even be possible in the first place. But it can be the secret only she and the world know. She doesn’t want Sana to look at her with so much restraint. Like it was hurting her the same. 

"I have other houses to frequent. They might be waiting like you too." 

"Will you stay the same if I see you again?" Mina’s voice trembles. 

Sana gives a weak smile, "I can be whatever you want."

"Thank you," her voice is cracking now. But it has been for a long time.

A thumb catches the tears that rolls down her jaw, and it follows upwards until it swabs her eyes. “You know that will make it harder for me to leave." Sana's eyes are forced kindness. For the first time, Mina sees how much she wants to stay.

"Five more minutes," a breathy plea.

"I can stay until dawn."

"Okay,"

They sit at the veranda where it faces the slow turn of the moon. They still have their hands latched together, to have as much physical warmth before it’s cold again. Then they stay, at a certain time Sana’s hand shrinks, turning into a gentle pat of her paw. For hours, Mina is remembering the slight tips of her claws, it doesn’t scratch her skin, it is very careful. Until daybreak. 

"Thank you for coming,"

She looks to the place beside her where it’s empty and finds the remnants of a whisker thread. She closes her eyes, lets the silence speak to her, everything the world wants to say. She doesn’t find it hard to breathe, not anymore.

✤ ✤ ✤

The house is much emptier now. Mina is squatting in front of her luggage. It takes her a while to muster up the courage, but she does unzip one of the bags at the side of the luggage and takes out all the photocards.

She arranges them in simple order down on the plank. Then she will work until noon hanging the pictures in her room from a thread, because she knows she will return soon. 

Mina will see one where Sana has her bicycle parked in front of the stall, her hair was long and she was digging through her pouch. Mina will see their graduation days, both of them hugging with grand bouquets in happy smiles. Mina will see Sana on the hospital bed, she knows the sick scent, the busy rumblings, but Sana was smiling. Mina will see Sana sitting on the veranda, taken from her back. Mina remembers she was barefoot, and it’s the same like every other night they’ve spent. A bowl of watermelon.

She stares at them for a long time. Then she puts the hairpins, necklaces, buttons, and Mina’s favorite knitting tools above the low cabinet, beside the portrait.

Then she sleeps, then she wakes. She’ll round the same neighborhood, drop by the same convenience store, pass by the same stall in the alley, and some nights when she’s got nothing better to do, she’ll walk up the temple, sit cross-legged in front of the tombstone and talk to Sana. _I don’t think he’s lost some sight or hearing, I think he knows it’s you._

✤ ✤ ✤

The floorboards still creak beneath Mina’s geta, a humble greeting for her return. She doesn’t wear the kimono, but she still remembers the occasion. 

When she sits by the veranda with a slice of watermelon, a cat wearing a red scarf will be on its way to her patio, then Sana will sit beside her nibbling at the fruit. Mina will be combing down the white fur. 

“Welcome back.”

Sana hums, “I’m home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Misana is a wholesome fit and this was nice to write, so I kinda want to share it <3 Thank you for reading :)


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